


Because You've Got That One Thing

by medusacascade22



Category: Hockey RPF, One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Washington Capitals, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:52:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusacascade22/pseuds/medusacascade22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Alexanders go to a One Direction concert and Ovi makes a new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because You've Got That One Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my dearest Ramona <3 
> 
> One Direction/BTR aren't actually performing at the Verizon Center during their Spring 2012 tour, but you know, creative license and all that.
> 
> I disclaim all that is necessary to disclaim.
> 
> Comments are incredibly welcome!

 

Alex can’t believe he let Sasha drag him to this concert. It’s at the Verizon Center, which is great and all, but none of the fans are there for Alex for once. He’s surrounded by girls, but not the kind he likes. They’re young; young enough to have chaperoning parents that keep glaring at Alex and his full beard and hockey player bulk. He’s even starting to get offended that no one has recognized him yet, especially because there are massive posters of his face all over the damn building. Alex directs his anger through his fist and into Sasha’s arm.

“Where the fuck did you take me?” Alex says in rapid Russian.

“It’s an American concert. You told me to immerse myself in the culture and stop being... what was it you said…?” Sasha pretends to contemplate. “Oh, right, you called me a big Russian cockface.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to listen to me. Besides, this is hardly a new experience. It’s our arena, for fuck’s sake.”

“You know I always follow a Captain’s order.” Sasha adds a dirty wink and a huge grin. Alex considers smacking the grin right off Sasha’s face but decides against it. He doesn’t want to discourage future cooperation, so he simply lifts his drink to his lips and muffles an annoyed groan into it. At least that’s a perk, he figures, complimentary drinks to the Washington Capitals Captain while inside the Verizon Center. Alex knew he’d need them after a quick Google search of the band names; _Big Time Rush_ and _One Direction._ He hadn’t even clicked any links; the sheer amount of exclamation marks was enough to convey the type.

Alex watches the seats below him fill up with little girls and their reluctant parents and considers bailing and heading down to the training rooms. He might have to knock a few preteens out of the way before he got there, but at least he could work out or fold his jerseys up or do something productive with his evening. He is just about to voice his plans to Sasha when the stage begins to light up. He figures it was now too late to make a break for it, so he sinks lower into his seat and knocks back the rest of his drink.

For what Alex assumes is the opening act, five boys walk out onto the stage and are met by deafening applause that is higher pitched than anything Alex had ever heard at a hockey game. Even from so far up, Alex can see the bright outfits they each wear. He turned to glare at Sasha, who shrugs and gestures to the box’s TV. Alex follows his silent instruction and squints at the screen.

A boy with a mess of curly brown hair that could rival Matty P commands the camera’s attention. His cheeks are pink as he peers up through his lashes in a practiced “charmer” move. Alex holds back a scoff. There is hardly more to this kid as there is to Alex’s hockey stick. He wonders if he could bench-press the boy and figures he probably good. He wants to tell Sasha about his thought, but his friend is engrossed in the act when Alex looks up.

“Good evening, Washington! Thank you all for coming out!” The curly boy says into a jewel covered microphone. Alex blinks hard. He knew he wasn’t the best with the English language, but the kid definitely sounded off. Alex’s questioning eyes roll back to Sasha.

“From England,” Sasha answers, and then waves his hand impatiently at Alex, warning him against future interruption.

“We’re One Direction, and we’d like to sing you a few songs before our friends Big Time Rush come out!” The boy continues in his voice that Alex had only heard on the stupid television shows that Mike made him watch. The boy waits for the applause to die down again, and then says “This one is called _One Thing.”_

With that, the five boys separate from their line across the front of the stage, and bounced across the floor and into different corners. Alex grits his teeth as a different boy’s face fills the screen, one with a stronger jaw and a shirt buttoned up to his chin, expecting the following sound to scrape the inside of his ears out. He squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself.

The singing starts and Alex is surprised enough to let one eye pop open. He relaxes his shoulders as the sound travels up to the box and fills his ears. It isn’t that bad, Alex has to admit. They aren’t Tiesto by any stretch of the imagination, but not even close to as bad as Alex expected. He makes a mental note to never admit it to Sasha, however. It isn’t like he needed to give the guy anything else to lord over him. Enjoying a teen pop boy band would probably beat out that one night when Alex was more inebriated than he can remember and said some things about Sidney Crosby’s ass in blackmail potential.

Alex almost chokes on his newly-refilled drink when the first curly haired boy starts to sing.

“ _Shot me out of the sky,”_ The lyric goes. “ _You’re my kryptonite,”_

Alex grips the arms of his chair and leans over the railing, willing himself closer to the sound. Sasha grabs onto the back of Alex’s jacket to keep him from jumping out into the crowd.

“The fuck?” Sasha asks when Alex has returned to his seat. Alex doesn’t respond, his eyes glued to the stage. Sasha waves a ring-covered hand in front of Alex’s face, who knocks it away with almost enough force to break a few bones. Sasha pulls his fingers back and massages his wrist, deciding that he values the game of hockey too much to lose his stick hand. Alex doesn’t even notice as his attention is fully engrossed in the singing teen.

His voice is like nothing he’s ever heard. The boy’s lips are big, full, and red on the big screen. Alex can’t help but imagine them around something other than a microphone. He almost wonders how old the kid is, but then realizes he doesn’t care. It’s been a long time since his last girl, or even his last guy, so Alex decides he’s allowed to fantasize about the kid who’s got vocal chords of gold, and maybe it’s okay if he gets a little bit harder each time the kid hits a really nice note.

Alex spends the rest of the act oblivious to the world save the boys on the stage. It takes him a few minutes to lean back after the band departs from the stage, his body stiff from the prolonged stance. Sasha starts to speak, but Alex cuts him off with a gesture of his arm. He grabs his glass with the other hand and downs it, before standing and straightening his collar.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Sasha asks as Alex turns towards the door.

“Backstage,” Alex says and pushes the door open. He doesn’t pause to give any other explanation, knowing that every moment he spends speaking to Sasha is a moment he isn’t spending with his dick in the boy’s mouth.

“They’re not going to let you past security, dumbass!” Sasha calls. Alex responds back with something about “captain” and “special privileges” from the hallway. Sasha sighs and returns his eyes forward, mumbling to himself, “It’s not even the main band yet. Who’s the cockface now?”

Alex winds through the halls of the Verizon Center with ease, the alcohol having little to no effect on the way his feet know the route. He ends up at a pair of double doors protected by two security guards. Luckily for Alex, they’re Verizon Center guys who adore him, so all he has to do is paint the biggest smile possible onto his face to grant him entry. He thanks the guards and promises them tickets to the next game against the Jets and pushes through the doors.

Alex has been back here before, usually while playing pranks on the newest Hershey call, but it’s completely different with the commotion of production. No one even stops to question his presence, as everyone is too busy with costumes or lighting or whatever the fuck they’re babbling about so quickly that Alex doesn’t even try to translate it.

He has no idea where the bands is, or even how to ask, so Alex just wanders through the area, searching for the face. He has to jump out of the way of a rack of clothing and dodge a pile of sophisticated lighting equipment, but eventually comes to a door with a loose-leaf paper sign on it declaring it “ _One Direction Dressing Rooms_.” Alex reaches for the handle, stealthily looks around him, sees that everyone is too busy preparing for the main band or generally being chaotic to notice him, and gently slips inside.

On the other side, Alex is met with a hallway just like the one near the locker room upstairs that are mostly trainers’ offices. Doors litter the hall every few feet, each one with a paper announcing its occupant. The names look more like gibberish to Alex than anything else, and for the first time, he begins to doubt his reckless decision. The boy wasn’t _that_ pretty, Alex thinks. Maybe he should just go back to the box and drown his half-boner in another bottle of vodka and pass the moment of insanity off as multi-game week stress. Just as he considers the idea, Alex hears the sound of laughter from the last room on the left. It perks his ears and erases any doubt in his mind (or his dick.)

With renewed energy, Alex makes for the door, desperate to reach the voice on the other side. It’s locked and Alex knocks impatiently. A small blonde boy answers, his eyes innocent and slightly confused. Alex vaguely connects him with Nicklas, but doesn’t spend more than a moment looking at him.

“Who is it, Nialler?” A voice says, and Alex inhales sharply. It’s the voice he’s looking for.

“I dunno,” The blonde says. His accent is even weirder than the others’, but Alex can’t make himself care. “Who are you?”

It takes a moment for Alex to realize the kid is speaking to him, as he’s too busy trying to crane his neck and see around him and into the room. When he does realize, all he can say is, “Uhm, I am Alexander Ovechkin.”

“Alright…?” The blonde raises an eyebrow. “Does the director need us or something?” He opens the door a little more.

“Uh, erm,” Alex stammers. He hadn’t thought this part through. It was more “find boy” and “put penis in boy’s mouth.” Alex hadn’t been expecting “explain to boy’s small friend who you are.” He considers lying and pretending to be a crew member, but his English isn’t good enough for that at the best of times, so he settles for honesty. “I am Captain of Washington Capitals. Hockey team that play here.”

“Oh yeah,” the Niall kid says, a crooked toothed grin spreading across his face. He opens the door further, which Alex takes as an invitation to enter. “I’ve seen the posters. You’re bigger in person, don’t you think, Harry?”

Alex’s eyes follow Niall’s gesture to a chair in the corner of the room, where the curly boy is reclining lazily. Alex’s breath catches in his throat.

“Definitely bigger,” The boy says, grinning along with his friend. “And quite a bit hairier, too.”

“I not shave before playoffs,” Alex says, his fingers immediately flying to his jaw and rubbing against the scraggly hairs there. The boy’s eyes follow the movement so Alex winks. The boy swallows audibly which only causes Alex to grin.

“Alright then,” Niall says. Alex looks towards him, though admittedly he had forgotten the kid was still there. “Zayn just texted me and it involved food, so I’m out. Nice to meet you, Mr. Ovechkin.” The kid waves and disappears from the room.

Alexander Ovechkin is alone with the boy with the curly hair and the beautiful voice and the fuckable lips. He has no idea how he made it happened, but he’s determined to make the most of it.

“So hockey, yeah?” The boy says, rubbing his palms down the front of his pants. Alex can’t help but notice how tight they are, even tighter than most he sees in Washington. He fights to keep his eyes on the boy’s face, which is a problem all in its own. The kid’s lips are bordering on obscene, and now that Alex can see the green of his eyes… he knows there’s no going back now.

“Yeah,” Alex says. “We play here.”

“You mean that entire audience is usually covered in ice?” The kid laughs and Alex can’t help but join in a little.

“Yes, and those who come are much different. Not little girls,” Alex tries to explain. The kid nods like he understands.

“Hockey and boy bands have different fan bases, I get it. How’d you find yourself here tonight?”

“Friend bring me. We have own box though, so is fine.” Alex smiles as the kid nods in agreement.

“That must be nice. We never get to watch anything, we just perform. I’m Harry, by the way. Harry Styles.” The kid grins like an idiot and holds his hand out. Alex takes it gingerly, careful not to crush his fingers. He has trouble letting go, but Harry gestures for him to sit down on the couch, so Alex does.

“Harry Styles,” Alex repeats. He assumes he pronounced it adequately by the way Harry grins at him. “Good name.”

“Thank you. Yours is good too. Alexander Ovechkin,” Harry says, turning the syllables over on his tongue. Alex is pretty sure he’s never heard his name said so well, and that includes in the bedroom.

“Had it for whole life,” Alex jokes and Harry laughs.

“Are all hockey players this funny? Or is it the accent?” Harry’s smile is infectious and Alex can’t take his eyes off it.

“No, just me.” Alex grins along, flicking his tongue against his gap. He feels the earlier alcohol building in his veins now that the initial anxiety has faded, and his confidence begins to build. “Captains always funny.” He adds, leaning forward.

“I bet you get all kinds of perks,” Harry says. “Backstage concert passes included, obviously.”

“Oh, yes.” Alex smirks. “Lots of perks. Some too much for your ears.” He says, teasing in his voice.

“Oh, please. I can handle it.” Harry insists.

“Silly boy. You not understand.”

“Try me!” The kid is even sexier when he’s worked up, Alex decides.

“Hmmm, if you say so.” Alex says, and beacons for Harry to come closer. He leans in and Alex speaks low as if he’s telling a secret. “Is tradition for travelling acts to kiss me.” Harry raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Is true!” Alex insists. “Is Russian thing.”

“I’m not sure if…” Harry starts. Alex leans back onto the couch, folding his hands behind his neck.

“Told you. You not understand. Too young, innocent.” Alex says condescendingly. Harry looks insulted in a way that Alex knows he shouldn’t find attractive, but does.

“You think I’m too innocent to kiss you?” Harry says, tone becoming playful. Alex simply nods and rolls his eyes. Harry huffs and launches himself out of his chair and onto the couch. Alex doesn’t even have time to comprehend what’s happening until he feels lips against his.

Harry begins to pull away before Alex has time to respond. “I win,” Harry claims with a triumphant grin. Alex clears his throat and shifts his legs to more adequately cover his boner.

“You think I let off so easy?” Alex says. “Peck not count.”

“Hey!” Harry says, offended. “I hardly know you. What do you expect me to do, shag you?”

“Yes,” Alex says before he can stop himself. Harry looks at him for a moment, obviously still in disbelief.

“I bet you say this to all the acts who come through here. You’re cute, but not cute enough to shag.”

“I settle for blowjob.”  Harry is so surprised by Alex’s response that he laughs. Alex takes advantage of his pose, head leaned back and mouth wide open, and sticks his tongue inside. Harry is caught by surprise yet again and makes no movement, letting Alex’s tongue explore his mouth.

It’s not until Alex’s tongue hits Harry’s left molar that the boy reacts. His fingers go to the back of Alex’s neck, holding him in place and kissing back. His lips become firm against Alex’s, no longer giving up control.

Harry tastes like adrenaline and sugar. Alex tastes like arousal and vodka.

Harry’s lips travel towards Alex’s jaw and down his neck. He knows he’ll have to explain the beard burn to his band mates in the morning, but honestly, it won’t be the first time.

Alex whines a little as Harry sucks a bit of skin on the side of his neck, lightly dragging his nails across the kid’s shoulders. He pulls at the stupidly sexy blazer Harry is wearing, and is pleased when Harry unwinds his arms from around Alex’s neck to allow its removal. Lips drag across his throat, producing an un-manly shiver than Alex knows he’d deny if ever asked.

Harry unlatches himself from Alex’s neck, only to push the larger Russian further onto the couch. He moves to hover over him, leaning down to press their lips back together. Alex lets his hands wander down Harry’s back, lingering on his hips.

It doesn’t take long for Harry to begin wandering again. His lips find Alex’s collar and he kisses along the edge. Alex squeezes Harry’s hip and practically whimpers when Harry undoes the top button with his teeth. Harry continues down Alex’s chest, unbuttoning and kissing as he goes. Alex’s breath is audible and labored as his eyes stay glued on Harry’s mouth. He doesn’t even notice the moans that slip from his mouth when Harry’s tongue darts out and onto his skin.

Words are spoken for the first time in a while when Harry moves to kneel on the floor in front of Alex’s knees. “Are you… is…” Alex says, breathing hard between each syllable.

“I never turn down a challenge.” Harry smirks. Alex takes that as enough consent as he’ll ever get, and lets his head drop to the back of the couch while Harry works his pants open. A rush of cool air hits his skin when his boner is finally free, the feeling soon replaced by the warm grip of Harry’s hand.

It’s a struggle for Alex not to lose it right then, but somehow he manages to keep it together long enough to watch Harry’s lips pull back and close over the head.

“Harry,” Alex tries not to scream. Harry makes an obscene slurping noise around him, mouth tightening in all the right ways around Alex. Harry’s curls bob up and down and Alex can’t help but bury his fingers into them, doing his best not to fuck the kid’s mouth. He can still see the red of Harry’s lips and it’s almost enough to send him over the edge embarrassingly early.

“Sing,” Alex says when he gathers enough coherency to speak English. Harry obliges almost immediately. His mouth hums around Alex, causing more vibrations than Alex thought was possible. Alex thinks it sounds beautiful, but all of his senses are rose-colored right now, so he can’t be held to an objective opinion.

Harry keeps singing around Alex, keeping the tune from one of their songs. Alex knows that if he ever hears the song on the radio on the way to morning skate, he’ll most definitely wrap his car around the nearest telephone pole.

Alex makes it to the chorus before coming. He tugs at Harry’s hair a little harder with the intention of warning, but Harry just sucks down harder, causing Alex’s release to be that much more intense. Every Russian obscenity he knows falls out of his mouth because ‘during orgasm’ is not on the list of Times When Alex Can Speak English.

His cum coats the back of Harry’s throat and Alex is worried for a moment that it might affect his voice, but thinks it might be worth it. Harry pulls off after swallowing completely, and Alex thinks he might faint. Harry tucks him back into his pants, giving his belt buckle a loving tap, and hauls himself back onto the couch. Alex manages to roll his neck over to look at Harry.

“Thanks,” He says, all breathy and low.

“No problem,” Harry grins. “It’s tradition.”

“I could…” Alex gestures towards Harry’s crotch, completely willing to return the favor.

“Nah, I’m good.” Harry says. “Maybe next time. For now, I should go tell the rest of the band that I’m still alive and haven’t been kidnapped. Management tends to worry about that.” He smirks and Alex returns it.

“I’ll call you when we headline in America.” Harry says. He presses a last kiss to Alex’s lips, pats his knee, and leaves.

Alex is left alone in Harry’s dressing room with the events of the past hour swimming around in his head. Alex knows he has game, but he can’t believe that even he pulled that one off.

After a while, he gets up and heads back towards the box. Alex settles back down next to Sasha and waves off his questions with a few excuses like “got lost” and “bathroom” even though he knows Sasha doesn’t completely believe him. Alex decides to let Sasha wonder and keep this particular score to himself.

One thing is for sure though. Alex will never refuse a concert with Sasha again.

 

fin~


End file.
